Agroprom Bar
by mizzlehotch777
Summary: Tidbit of a short story i am working on in the S.T.A.L.K.E.R. universe. I have never played the game so I don't have first hand knowledge of the world, but i have done research. Submitted for review and criticism of writing style and content.


"What do you mean my tab isn't open anymore?"

"It's not open. You owe me two hundred and twenty seven rubles, and you haven't been out in three months," argued Nikolai. The bartender was beginning to lose his patience with this particular ruffian, and he easily outsized this man by half. He looked away from the ruffian and walked down to the sink at the end of the bar. His thick arms grabbed a rag on the bar and he looked up at the glasses hanging above the bar. He picked one and started to wash it, hoping the ruffian would leave. It's not like Nikolai wasn't intimidating in stature. He was a big dog by anybody's standards; built like a defensive end, the kind that was supposed to occupy a man, not rush the quarterback. His face, on the other hand, was scruffy and rough. His chiseled chin defined his face, and his blue eyes kept a wary watch on the man at the bar.

Nikolai had been here for a long time, since before the second explosion happened, but his bar had not fallen into the level of disrepair that surrounded him. He managed to keep the lights on and the jukebox running through a pilfered generator he kept running in the back. He modified the motor to run on ethanol instead of gas, so he could make his own fuel supply and remain free of the gas "crisis" the zone had. He even managed to get a neon sign for Budweiser. How he got that nobody knew, and nobody really cared. It was cool to look at and gave the air of civilization, if you could call a bar civilized in Eastern Europe. The booze there wasn't all that bad. Nikolai managed a small distillery in the back, making moonshine whiskey and vodka. Food was cheaper than gas here.

The ruffian was getting annoyed at this bartender's defiance. After all, the ruffian had a gun, and this piss ant bartender can't stop bullets. "Just give me a drink, and I'll pay you back!"

"I can't stay open if nobody pays their tabs. Luckily for me, everybody pays up front. I've been very accommodating to you, but my generosity is running out. Either pay up front, or come back when you can."

The ruffian reached behind himself for his knife, but Nikolai was not going to be intimidated by some drunkard wearing orange and black. He pulled out a Makarov from under the bar and pointed it at the man's head. "I can see that there is no reasoning with you. Please leave now, before somebody has to clean up a very unsightly mess. Please. Go. Now," Nikolai said sternly, but gently enough as to not seem too arrogant. The ruffian looked at the gun, then Nikolai and removed his hand from the small of his back. He turned and walked out the door cursing in Russian.

Nikolai watched the man leave and put his gun back where he took it from under the bar. While he put it back he got a wet rag and started cleaning off the bar. It was going to be dark soon, and he wanted to be ready for the usual influx of travelers, regulars, and possible tenants. He had no rooms, but for a small fee, anybody could sleep on the floor if they could find a comfortable spot. There always were some takers, and everybody was civil enough.

***

Alexi walked out of doctor's "office" in Agroprom, Marcus had to have stitches on his arm to close that bullet wound. It was starting to get infected by the time they got him in; the doctor said they were just in time. Marcus would need to stay there overnight so the doctor could keep an eye on him. Alexi paid the doctor for his trouble, with a little extra to forget Marcus came through. There was still the problem of the mercenaries, and Alexi wasn't going to take any chances.

Vasha followed Alexi out the door, looking around them at the small, desolate, quiet town. If you were new to the area, you probably would have noticed that the place was dead, but it had been like that since 1986, the first Chernobyl explosion. The sun was setting early today, a sign of the waning months and coming cold. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and looked at Alexi. "I'm pretty thirsty. Let's go visit Nikki, eh?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Alexi hadn't seen Nikolai in a long time, three months actually since they had been this way. Nikolai had always treated these two well, and in exchange, Alexi told him stories and gave trinkets to sell. It was a decent business arrangement, and both made some money off it. It had been a couple months since they had been in this area. The business took them elsewhere. It was good money for what they did, escort scientists here, go "remove" a pack of Chernobyl dogs from there, go get this item, go find a body. The work had been steady and neither Vasha, Alexi nor Marcus had asked questions. Money was up front as well. Now that Alexi thought of it, it was too good of a deal. He was bought, maybe played, and he didn't like it. Nikki would help them; Nikki always knew what was going on.

Alexi reached in his webbing, looking for something. "Where the hell are they?" he said to nobody. He touched his breast pocket and found it there, his pack of cigarettes. He took one of them out and stuck the filtered end in his mouth and looked for his lighter. The cigarette was a Camel, Turkish blend, his last one. He didn't remember the last time he had a smoke, but now, when he was thinking, he wanted the tobacco smell and taste. Only when he was thinking, only when he was stressed did he light one up. Vasha hated it, and Alexi knew it, but didn't care. There were more dangerous things in The Zone than secondhand smoke.

"You know I hate that," moaned Vasha.

"Shut up you woman. A little smoke never killed anybody."

"They smell like shit, and they tell everybody where we are."

"We're not out, we're in Agroprom, so will you shut up? I need to think."

"About what?"

"The mercs that tried to kill us. That hasn't happened in a long time. I just don't know who wants us dead."

"Me neither. But I'm not going to think about it just yet. We'll ask Nikki about it."

***

Nikolai was busy that night. The bar had only ten patrons, but they all wanted different things, and they were messy. It's not easy running a bar by yourself, you have to clean, serve, balance the books, maintain furniture, and on top of that the distillery didn't run itself either. Nikolai was busy that night.

Alexi and Vasha opened the door and had to adjust their eyes to the light. Daylight to the dimly lit, smoke filled bar was not easy to do, but Alexi walked in and saw the neon Budweiser sign and Nikolai below it. Alexi walked over to the bar and sat down on one of the stools. Vasha came in behind him and looked at the rest of the bar, a few scattered tables with people sitting there, from young to old and one to three people, all of them professionals, all of them relaxing as best they could. He followed Alexi to the bar and sat down next to him. He reached in his pocket and retrieved a one hundred ruble bill and palmed it, looking at Nikolai patiently. "What do you want?" Vasha whispered to Alexi.

"Whiskey tonight." Replied Alexi. It took a minute, but Nikolai eventually made his way down to them, shook Vasha's hand and got them their drinks. The mason jars he used were clean enough, not that the alcohol wouldn't kill anything that might make them sick. The booze tasted good; as good as anything they had the past few years. They didn't drink it all right away; it was too strong to do that. Even in a bar, being drunk invites trouble here. They passed the time comparing notes on the last adventure, trying to figure out when they were tracked, or if they stumbled on something big. Maybe somebody was trying to tame Chernobyl dogs or catch a bloodsucker and didn't want to be found. But that theory was just too neat for them, only the stupid ones thought anything out here could be tamed. No, it was something else. A hit seemed unlikely, but being paranoid in The Zone more often than not, and that is much more often than not, pays off. They decide that it's a better idea to go talk to their employer the next day. That's when Nikolai showed in front of the two and showed his biggest smile. "It's been too long, my friends. What brings you back this way?"

"We had a run in with some mercenaries," replied Vasha. "We were lucky to get out alive. These guys had us. They _had_ us, Nikki." He made a knife hand and hit the table with emphasis.

"I can see why you are rattled," replied Nikolai. His face went from that of happiness to one of grave concern. "I have not heard of any mercenaries coming through here or anywhere near here, and you know I have the ears of a hare."

"Yes, so what we need you to do is use them," Alexi said. He was calmer than Vasha, but that was because by that time, he was finished with his drink. "We weren't that far in anyways. Could have been a mistake on their part."

"Could it be Duty?" asked Nikolai

"We weren't wearing blue, just the independent green. Besides, Duty and Freedom have stopped killing each other recently, right?"

"Yeah, that is what I hear, but I do not trust what they say. They do not just stop killing each other out of convenience." All three of them knew this was true. Since the second explosion, the two main factions Duty and Freedom had been fighting each other about the Zone. Duty believed that the Zone should be contained and creatures inside it exterminated, and since the Ukrainian military agreed with them, they got supplies from the army. Like any respectable military force, the Ukrainian army treated Duty like an army of private contractors. Duty stationed itself near the boundary of The Zone, assisting the army by letting nobody out without proper "papers." Its rival, Freedom, was holed up deep in the zone. They controlled a series of warehouses south of Pripyat that kept them supplied with everything they needed, from foodstuffs to weapons to clothes to guitars. Yeah, they made some money selling guitars, and they worked too. If you saw someone strumming a guitar in The Zone, you can bet they had some dealings with Freedom. Freedom maintained the stance that The Zone needed to go public, the secret needed to get out, and soon. The main conflicts between Duty and Freedom were skirmishes and raids that Freedom conducted on Duty supply stations. Fast, hit and run skirmishes that no longer made the news, they were just the norm, just something that happens. Alexi and Vasha were part of another faction, the faction that didn't give shit about the other factions and wanted to be left alone to do their jobs. They were independents. Whereas Duty wore black and orange and Freedom wore blue and tan, independents wore green. There were two other factions rumored to exist, but nothing hard has ever been presented. Somebody called for the bartender. "I have to go." And Nikolai walked off to the impatient patron.


End file.
